Let Hope Burn in Your Eyes
by Zimothy
Summary: Erik never expected to have to take a kid for ransom, let alone the persistently annoying Charles Xavier.
1. Chapter 1

**Let Hope Burn In Your Eyes**

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><p>Erik prided himself in his efficiency for picking locks - even more so for getting in and out of places inconspicuously enough that not a single moment of suspicion was uttered from guards or residents alike.<p>

He stared up the tall and looming walls of the Westchester Mansion, body encased in simple black attire that clung to him as he clung to the shadows. There would be enough things in this mansion that Erik wouldn't need to steal anything else to acquire funding in the next step of his chase for Shaw. He fiddled with the lock on the back door with the small pick-kit he'd bought, opening it whenever the metal bolts gave a satisfying _click_ and the knob turned easily beneath his hand.

There was a family that lived here, yes, but he was well versed in their schedule. The step-children were the only ones likely to occupy the mansion's vast and empty rooms. Erik doubted he would come across either of them - though a chance thought flickered though his head, entertaining the idea of ransoming one of them in order to gain even more money from this wealthy family.

He shook his head, dashing the thought. It would be too hard to search each room and find either one of the children - a boy and a girl in their teens - let alone get them back out without alerting anyone of his presence.

Erik slipped into the house quickly, fingers trailing over random objects and he mentally assessed the things best for him to take. He had a small duffel, but quantity didn't matter much in the face of quality.

Erik stepped into the kitchen, eyes landing on a pantry full of silver and gold encrusted houseware just outside of its entry on the other side. Grinning to himself, the man slipped his duffel from his shoulder, a firm hand twisting the knob and easily breaking the small lock that was most likely installed to keep small children out, not 28 year old man who'd done far worse things in his life than stealing some silverware and a couple trinkets from a mansion that would hardly notice their absence.

"Who are you?"

Erik whirled around, eyes landing on a thin teenage boy clad in pale blue, silk pajamas, his brown hair wild from sleep and a baseball bat clenched in shaking hands. Erik grinned, all teeth, and gestured to the bat.

"Someone you don't want to use that on, I suggest." He responded, moving towards the teen and smiling even wider when the kid jerked back a step and rose his bat.

"Leave my house!" The boy - Charles Xavier, Erik bet - cried angrily. Erik's grin fell into a scowl, dropping his duffel next to the pantry and stepping closer to Charles, crowding the kid up against the wall.

"Don't. Shout." He snapped, voice low and dangerous. He didn't need to deal with some stupid teenager messing up a few hundred dollars that this place would inevitably earn him. Charles didn't seem deterred, and clenched his eyes shut as he took a swing - obviously expecting it to hit like they did in so many action movies. Erik brought a hand up, catching the tip in his palm with a deafening _smack_. Pain lanced up his hand - but not nearly as much as the man expected.

"You can't expect a bat to do much damage without the right strength behind it." Erik said, jerking his hand and wrenching the aluminum weapon out of Charles' hand. Charles released an undignified noise of startlement, blue eyes wide with terror and mouth opened to scream - most likely for his sister.

Erik twisted the bat around and rammed the blunt end of it into the side of Charles' head before anything else could be done. The kid went down like a sack of bricks, a split in his temple and blood trickling down the side of his face. Tossing the bat down beside the kid's body, Erik went back to his task of clearing out the silverware display.

Finished with that, Erik perused the remainder of the bottom floor before satisfied with the things he'd picked up. He moved to step over Charles' crumpled body on his way out and hesitated. He had enough money to follow Shaw over the border, but from there, Erik wasn't sure how much things cost or whether Shaw would be moving too fast for Erik to earn anything else once he caught a fresh lead. It would do to have a couple thousand dollars at his dispense.

Assuaged by these thoughts, Erik slung the strap of his duffel over his head and let it rest across his chest. He left the bat, but grabbed the teenager's unconscious body and slung it over his shoulder. There were no forms of security at this place, and it seemed that the younger sister was either dead asleep or not at home, because Erik strode out of the mansion down the road to where he's parked the plain blue Elantra that he'd stolen from a parking garage.

Charles remained unconscious in the passenger seat for the entire ride back to the slums and into the shitty motel room two doors down from the very end. Given that it was well past three in the morning, Erik wasn't surprised with the disgusted eyeroll he received from the woman who was standing outside of her room with a cigarette in one hand and the leash for her dog in the other.

He tossed Charles onto the one bed in the room and rummaged about for something to tie him up with. Memory happened to serve him correctly, and Erik found a small bundle of nylon rope in one of his suitcases. Pulling it out, the man set to work on binding Charles' hands together, as well as his upper arms and legs. For good measure, he attached all of them together so one movement would impede the other - given that he wasn't too sure how adamant the teenager would be in escaping. He rolled Charles onto his side, taking a moment to admire pale skin that contrasted sharply with each strand of dark brown hair that hung in the teen's face.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Erik brushed a few locks behind Charles' ear. He couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen, with thin hands (nails worn down to the nubs from chewing, it seemed) red lips and a body that boasted no fat or muscle at all. His body was slumped a tad awkwardly - dried blood smearing a tiny streak of red along the pasty blue pillow of the bed.

Erik stood again, mentally going over a checklist. He had to return to the mansion, deposit a note in the mail slot about the price for Charles' return, and then go about returning the car.(returning it was much less hassle than disposing of it, as long as he remained undetected) He'd have to find a way of securing another one, if this ransom didn't pull through. His Ducati wasn't the best mode of transportation when two individuals were concerned. It would also be best for him to go at least two towns over for pawning off the items he'd gotten from Westchester, to draw away any suspicion of his location.

Before he left, Erik rummaged around in his bags in search of the duct tape he knew he had somewhere. Once found, it was used in great length to tape up the lower half of Charles's face so that no amount of mouth-wiggling could free it enough for him to scream for help.

Satisfied, Erik left the motel a quarter after four in the morning to finish his errands. (The pawn shop would have to be done when they opened in the morning- before news of Charles' kidnapping hit the media.)

By the time he was back, it was just past six thirty and Erik could feel exhaustion creeping at the corners of his vision. He unlocked the motel room, glancing around in surprise to see that Charles' was nowhere in his immediate sight. He grinned a little, stepping into the room and locking the door. He made it four steps in when Erik caught a glimpse of naked toes peeking out from underneath of the bed, sheets brushing the very top of them.

"You do realize there's no fathomable way to hide from me in my own motel room, don't you, Charles?" Erik called out, voice laced with utter amusement. The toes curled and dragged themselves under the bed, pulling a sigh of mild irritation from Erik.

"That's no way to treat your host." Erik chastised, and knelt down to reach under the bed and grasp firmly at a thin ankle. Charles released a muffled cry of fright as Erik wrenched him out from under the bed with a mighty pull, exposing the teen to the dull yellow light of the motel lamps. Charles' eyes were rimmed red as he squirmed against his restraints, yelling something incomprehensible beneath the duct tape.

Erik tutted softly, wagging a finger. "You're not behaving very well, Charles." He warned, letting go of the teen's ankle. Charles attempted to kick out at him, but it was rather futile when his ankles were tied together and the rope attached to his wrists, forcing the teen's back at an awkward bend.

Erik grabbed Charles' foot, slamming it(and the one tied to it) into the ground with enough force to jar a sound of pain from the child. Charles' squirmed, but it did little to make Erik release the punishing grip he had on the appendage. Digging his fingers into the flesh beneath his hand, Erik's smile fell into an irritated scowl.

"Don't fight me, Charles. You're not going anywhere until I get what I want." He snarled, satisfied in the look of utter fright his statement received. He knew that Charles was most likely taking his words in the worst way possible, but Erik did nothing to assuage his fears. There was a moment of blessed silence before Charles' struggles became frantic, trying his damndest to wriggle out of Erik's grasp.

Erik snarled, this time with more anger, and he backhanded Charles so hard that the teen's head whipped to the side, cheek smashing against the dirty carpet with a barely audible _thud_.

"I said _don't. fight me."_

Charles ignored him, whimpering and squirming to the point where Erik knew his restraints were probably chafing something awful. Sighing, the man leaned back, reaching behind Charles' to grab the length of rope connecting his wrists to his ankles. With a grunt, he pulled, lifting Charles and tossing him onto the bed - satisfied to hear a shout of pain that the action caused.

Charles' shout cut off when he hit the bed, instantly transforming into another sound of terror. Erik walked around the side of the bed, hand shooting out to slap the teen with even more force in an attempt to still his struggles for unlikely freedom.

"I don't want to hurt you, Charles, but you're making it very difficult for me to do otherwise." Erik sighed, turning to the small bedside table and reaching for the small dagger he kept there. He fingered the tip of it fondly, glancing to see that Charles had stopped his futile efforts.

"Afraid of knives, are we?" He teased, turning to face Charles with the blade pointed at the shaking teen. Charles' eyes darted from Erik's hand to his face, seemingly unsure if he should nod or shake his head.

"You should be." Erik added, stepping towards the bed and bringing it up to press against the underside of Charles' jaw, tracing pale flesh with an almost entranced rapture. Charles clenched his eyes shut, breath huffing nervously through his nose and shoulders trembling when a half-sob escaped the back of his throat.

Erik tutted, dragging the blade across the teenager's flesh and tapping his Adam's apple, which bobbed with every nervous sound Charles emitted. "Don't cry, Charles." He soothed, "I need you alive, after all."

Charles said something, but it was utterly inaudible due to the layers of duct tape wrapped around his mouth. Erik tilted his head to the side, never once ceasing in tracing undefined patterns on the boy's skin.

"I'm not a rapist, Charles." He assured after a moment, drawing back with a sigh and setting the dagger back onto the table. From the corner of his eye, he could see Charles visibly slump against the bed in relief.

"But I am a man with little patience for those who don't listen." Erik added as an afterthought, giving Charles a pointed look. Charles' brows were furrowed in confusion, eyes red with unshed tears and shakes subsiding just a fraction.

"I'm going to take a quick nap. It would be in your best interest not to try and escape - you won't get far." Erik reached forward, torn between the thrill that rushed through him and the guilt that ate at him when Charles flinched back violently. He paused, stroking the back of his knuckles over Charles' cheek in a soothing motion before grabbing his shoulders and shoving him over to one edge of the bed.

"Try not to move too much, I'm a light sleeper." Erik noted, kicking his shoes off as well as shucking his pants and shirt. Charles whimpered when Erik stepped towards the bed again, this time only in his boxer briefs, but the man ignored it in favor of climbing under the covers and shutting off the bedside lamp.

"And don't cry too loudly." Erik muttered, grabbing his cell phone and setting the alarm. Within seconds of putting his head to the pillow, he was fast asleep.

Erik's alarm went off promptly at 8 and the man jerked awake. The sudden movement seemed to startle Charles, because the kid let out a startled shriek and jumped enough that he fell off the side of the bed. Erik laughed - loudly - leaning to the side and peering over the edge where Charles was wedged beneath the bed and the wall.

"Having fun down there?" He teased. Charles' wide eyes quickly transformed into an irritated glare and he snapped some muffled sort of response that Erik couldn't really decipher. Shrugging and chuckling, Erik got up and headed to the tiny bathroom on the other end of the motel room. He paused, turning and peeking over at Charles - who was still trapped against the bed and the wall.

"Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

Charles stared back at him for a few long seconds before he hesitantly nodded. Erik hummed low in his throat, turning on his heel and walking back towards the teen. Charles flinched away and Erik ignored it, hauling him up after getting a firm grasp on the rope binding him. Charles squeaked in pain and then in surprise when he was slung over a broad shoulder - forcing a groaned huff of air out of him when it dug into his stomach.

Erik carried him to the bathroom, grunting and using his foot to pick up the toilet seat. He set Charles down none-too-gently, moving the rope out of the way (twisting Charles' arms and legs to the side in order to do so) and reaching the teen's pajama bottoms.

Charles let out a sound of distress and Erik laughed. "I'm not going to untie you, so you'll have to get over it." He said before pulling Charles' bottoms down.

He stood, turning to the side and gesturing for Charles to get on with his business. He caught a glimpse of a petulant blue-eyed glare before staring at the sink. Charles sighed through his nose and a second later Erik closed his eyes to the sound of the teenager urinating.

Silence followed after a few seconds and Charles made another sound to let Erik know he was finished. The man nodded, pulling Charles' pants and boxers back up. He flushed the toilet, hefting Charles back over his shoulder and carrying him out into the main room. Tossing the teen onto the bed, Erik retreated back into the bathroom to use the shower.

He emerged fifteen minutes later, clean-shaven and dripping bits of water with a towel slung around his waist and another one being rubbed through his hair. Making his way towards his suitcase, Erik caught sight of Charles' stare, glancing up and grinning wide at the flushed state of the teen's cheeks. Sure, Erik had his share of scars (who wouldn't, in his line of work) but his body was perfectly fit to keep up with the things his 'job' required. Charles, upon realizing that he'd been caught staring, pointedly looked at the wall.

Erik laughed softly, dropping his towel (and pointedly ignoring the small huff of surprise from Charles) and getting dressed in a pair of jeans and turtleneck. He sat on the edge of the bed, donning socks and shoes.

"I have to finish some errands, but I doubt they'll take very long. If you don't try to escape, I'll bring you back some food when I'm done. Sound good?" Erik glanced over his shoulder, catching Charles' hesitant nod of affirmation.

"Good." Erik stood, grabbing his leather jacket and duffel full of things he'd nicked from Westchester, and headed out. He made sure to throw on the 'do not disturb' sign over the knob - though he doubted the maid service would actually bother- and headed for his Ducati.

By the time Erik had finished his trips to various pawn shops in the nearby towns, he'd brought in nearly three thousand dollars - enough to get him over the border and settled for a few days. It was early afternoon when he stopped at a small diner, ordering lunch for himself and a sandwich for Charles. (though he wasn't even sure if the kid would be allowed to eat it, what with all the sound he made when he WAS gagged)

Stopping at a payphone two streets from his motel, Erik rang up the number for Westchester mansion, surprised when it picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" A young girl's voice answered, weary and thick with tears. Erik lowered his voice into a deep growl.

"Did you get my message?" He asked, under the impression that Raven Xavier was likely the one he was talking to, and the one who would have found the ransom note in the post that morning.

"Wh- what do you want with him? I don't have any money!" The young girl cried. Erik barked out a laugh.

"I don't want your money, I want your father's money." He shot back, voice nearly a snarl. Raven - probably no older than fourteen- broke down into sobs.

"Ku-Kurt won't listen to me!" She cried, sniffling wetly. Erik's eyes narrowed in frustration and his fist clenched around the edge of the payphone box.

"You'd better make him, if you ever want to see your brother again." He snapped, pulling the phone from his ear as Raven cried into the receiver not to hurt Charles. He hung up with more force than necessary, pausing to calm himself and running a hand through his hair.

He returned to his Ducati, revving it and making the quick drive back to the motel. When he unlocked the door, Erik was more than pleased to see Charles in nearly the same spot he'd left him - this time fast asleep.

Shutting the door was enough to wake the teen, and Erik answered the sleepy-surprised stare by holding up the wrapped sandwich in his hand.

"Hungry?" He asked. Charles hesitated, and then nodded slowly. Erik set his duffel down, locking the door and making his way over to the teen. He set the sandwich down, turning and grabbing his dagger. Charles squeaked, edging away when Erik brought the knife to his face.

"Hold still." The man snapped, grabbing Charles' jaw in strong hands and lifting the knife to the edge of the tape. Charles clenched his eyes shut, snapping them open a second later when he felt the dagger slide between his cheek and the duct tape, sawing it away and uncovering his mouth for the first time in nearly twelve hours.

For a moment, the teen looked like he was about to cry for help, but he was silenced whenever Erik turned the blade to press it warningly against the edge of his skin. Quieting, Charles swallowed thickly and glanced down at the sandwich.

Satisfied with the results, Erik put the dagger back on the bedside table and unwrapped the sandwich.

"Open." He barked, taking the first half and holding it to Charles' lips. Charles eyed him hesitantly before opening his mouth wide and taking a bite. He made a grunt of satisfaction, chewing quickly and swallowing just as face before opening his mouth again - _like an infant bird,_ Erik thought to himself. He fed Charles the rest of the first half and then setting the other half down to stand.

"What about the rest?" Charles blurted, his voice soft and nervous. Erik glanced over at him and then went back to getting something from his duffel.

"Are you not thirsty? I thought you might want some water." He pointed out lightly, grabbing one of the bottles in his bag and waving it around at Charles.

Charles made a soft _'oh'_ of surprise. "Y-Yes, I'd like that very much, thank you. Sir." Charles licked a sliver of mustard from the corner of his mouth, head instantly tilting up when Erik came over and brought the now-opened bottle to his lips. He drank greedily from it, releasing a small sound to let Erik know when to pull it away.

"Thank you." Charles added again, watching Erik grab the second half of the sandwich.

"You talk too much." Erik answered, feeding Charles the rest of his food in silence. He offered him one last drink of water before capping the bottle and tossing the trash in the bin.

"What's your name?" Charles asked, watching Erik bend to get something else from his bag. Erik grunted noncommittally, standing up with the roll of duct tape.

"None of your business." The man answered, stepping towards Charles and using a few slivers of tape to repair the slice he'd made earlier, once again silencing the teen. Charles looked more disgruntled than anything and Erik patted him fondly on the head.

"Good boy." He said, grinning wide. Charles narrowed his eyes into a glare that was more adorable than menacing and Erik laughed.

"Cute." He pointed out dryly, and then proceeded to grab his duffel and set it on the small table beside the curtain-drawn window. Charles mumbled something inaudible back and Erik paused in the middle of pulling his Glock out. He saw the way the teen tensed when he approached with the gun, but Erik said nothing other than to grab the remote control and flick the television on to some daytime drama.

"There you go, sweetheart." Erik said as he went back to the table and pulled out his Desert Eagle and SR-25 (which hardly ever came into play, much to Erik's disappointment.) Charles had finally fallen silent- either watching whatever soap opera Erik had put on, or watching the man set about cleaning each of his guns meticulously - and Erik was left to his thoughts for the first time since the previous night.

Mentally, he went over the plans he'd set up. Shaw had booked a flight to Jamaica that wasn't scheduled to leave for another two weeks, having a handful of tasks that he needed to see through before leaving the country. That gave Erik ample time, not only to get the money he needed from the random, but to configure a fake ID and passport just for the occasion.

He'd probably need a new wardrobe, given the drastic difference in climate between New York and Jamaica, and it would be wise to find a good weapon's dealer before he actually left. (He needed to put aside a couple hundred for a storage unit here in New York. Erik had grown rather fond of his guns, and his dagger, but he didn't want to deal with trying to sneak them past airport security.)

It was late afternoon when Charles made a distressed sound that drew Erik out of his thoughts.(and his meticulous, unnecessary wiping down of his SR-25's barrel) He glanced up and Charles stared at him imploringly, another incomprehensible sound escaping the teen. Erik sighed, setting his guns down and grabbing his dagger.

"This had better be good." He snapped, "You're going to waste all of my tape." He slid the blade across the tape, nicking Charles' cheek the slightest bit - not that he felt all too guilty, the kid was sure needy for a captive- and wrenching it away from Charles' mouth.

"Ah, not so rough, my friend." Charles winced, licking at his red and swollen lips. Erik gave him a flat look and Charles cleared his throat. "Ah yes. Well. I know I'm a captive and all, but it would be really, _really_ great if you could untie me for a bit. I'm getting a tad stiff, you see an-"

"Shut up." Erik growled, irritation rising as he went to grab the duct tape and silence the teen once more.

"Wait, please!" Charles cried, wiggling uselessly on the bed. Erik turned to stare at him expectantly.

"I swear to you that I won't run. You can keep me tied, if you must. Can you just tie me in a different position? It would be greatly appreciated." Charles pleaded, lips pursed in anticipation and eyebrows as high as they could possibly go - the epitome of innocence.

Erik narrowed his eyes, debating his options before standing up straight. "If you make a single move to escape, I will cut the tendons in your ankles and make sure that you _never_ run again." He snarled lowly, stomping over to grab Charles and roll him onto his stomach.

"Oh _thank you._ I truly appreciate this. I'm relatively certain of your motives and I really must stress that my step-father is the one-"

"Shut. Up." Erik snapped, untying the knots as quickly as possible and forcing Charles onto his back. Charles brought his hands up, rubbing his wrists and unfolding his legs with a distressed look, hair splayed about his face and gaze imploring at Erik.

"No, you must understand, my step-father is-"

Erik slapped him. Hard.

"I said shut up!" He barked. There was nothing that Charles could say that would stop Erik from trying to get his money, he _needed_ this money, if he was ever going to kill the man who'd so pointlessly murdered his mother. "I don't care what you have to say, I'm not going to let you go, not until I get what I ne- what I want!"

Charles brought a shaking hand up, fingertips tapping the small split on the corner of his mouth. "I understand." The teen said, voice as even it could be with the scared tremble that coursed through him. "I'm not stopping you. I just need you to know that you won't-"

Erik's hands were around Charles' throat in a split second, earning a choked squeak from the smaller male. Charles' hands flew to Erik's, tugging at them in fright.

He squeezed harder, hoping to get his message across. "I have been told all my life that I will never get what I want. I don't need to hear it from some rich, spoiled _brat_ who's never known hardship in his entire life." He hissed, hands tightening when Charles tried to kick at him. It took the teen a moment of airless struggling before he realized that Erik wouldn't let go until he stopped. In that moment, Charles fell blessedly still, hands dropping to the bed and legs going limp. His face was red, eyes starting to bug out just the slightest bit, and Erik released him.

Charles sucked in a great, pained breath that has his entire chest inflating with the effort. The teen coughed painfully, gasping for air and covering his mouth to try and stifle the noise. The shaking was back and Erik sat up to brush his hair back and calm himself.

"I'm sorry." Charles croaked weakly, still struggling to get his breathing under control. Erik straightened his shirt, grabbing the rope that lay about the teen and gesturing at him.

"Give me your hands." He snapped. Charles instantly held his wrists out, letting Erik tie them together. "Feet too." Charles ankles tapped together from the force of which he obeyed Erik's command. Erik brought the rope down to bind them as well, tying the ropes in an old knot that he doubted Charles would know how to undo regardless.

"I trust you not to try and escape." Erik warned, sitting back and staring at the bright red rings around Charles' neck from his own fingers. An odd feeling stirred in his gut and he focused on the boy's face instead. "Do not break my trust."

Charles barely managed a sobbing nod before Erik was bringing the tape back over his mouth.

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><p>End Chapter 1.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Let Hope Burn In Your Eyes**

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><p>It was two hours before Erik heard another peep from Charles, and even then, he had a feeling that the teenager was only doing it out of sheer desperation. It was a hum of insistence at first, which Erik happily ignored in favor of watching another episode of 'How It's Made' on aluminum bike wheels. Charles shifted from his position higher up on the bed to get closer to Erik, who sat on the edge. The teen scooted down enough to nudge Erik's hip with his toe. Erik glanced over his shoulder with an unhappy scowl.<p>

"What." He snapped - a demand, not a question. Charles gestured to his bindings, eyes wide and saying something that was entirely incomprehensible. Erik narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not going to take the tape off every time you think you have something interesting to say." He pointed out, turning up the volume on the television to drown out Charles' mumbling. He jerked when toes pressed insistently into the side of his stomach - wiggling lightly against a ticklish pressure point Erik didn't even know he had.

Jumping up, Erik stormed over to the night stand and snatched up his dagger. Muting the TV, he tossed the remote on the bed and climbed up, grabbing Charles by the wrists and dragging him closer. Charles released an undignified whimpering noise, head flinching back.

"If you're going to do this every time you want me to take the tape off, I'm just going to leave it on and feed you intravenously." Erik growled, moving to grasp the teenager's chin tightly and tilt his head, dagger sliding under the tape and nicking the edge. He used that to rip the rest of it in half, pulling it from Charles' mouth.

Instantly, Charles was licking his lips - as if trying to quell the red and swollen skin to the best of his ability. Erik drew back, setting the dagger on the nightstand and staring at him expectantly.

"Well?" He asked impatiently. Charles cleared his throat nervously, an intense flush rising to his cheeks and ears. Erik's eyes narrowed and it seemed to spur the teen into talking.

"I'm afraid I have to use the restroom again- and there's no polite way to tell you, but it isn't to urinate." Charles squeaked, so mortified that even his neck was turning red. (Erik briefly wondered if that flush ran all the way down his chest, but dashed the image away the second it surfaced.)

Erik's lips contorted into a grimace and he sighed painfully. "Hang on, then." He headed for his duffel, opening one of the side pockets for the small tool kit he kept secured there.

"What am- I - er. okay." Charles stumbled over his words, seeming to remember Erik's extreme distaste for questions and conversation. He set his head back down on the bed to watch the man with a curious gaze.

Erik extracted a Phillip's screwdriver, standing and walking over to the bathroom door. It didn't take much longer than two or three minutes, and he had the knob off, turned, and re-secured with the lock facing out.

Standing, Erik replaced his screwdriver into the tool kit, zipping up his duffel and walking towards Charles. He paused, reaching to grab his Glock from the table and tucking it into the back of his pants.

"I'm going to untie you, and if you try to run, I'll kill you." He pointed out at the same time he reached for Charles' restraints. Charles eagerly held his hands out, nodding so vigorously that Erik was certain it would result in a slight headache. Sighing as if the entire world pained him, Erik unknotted the ties around the teenager's wrists and ankles and pointed to the bathroom.

"You have fifteen minutes to do your thing and then shower. If you want, you can wash your things in the sink, but don't go over your time limit. I have a spare shirt I can give you, but that's it." As Erik spoke, Charles was gingerly pulling the tape off from the rest of his face, wincing as it tugged his untamed hair. Erik rolled his eyes, reaching out and yanking it - resulting in a good clump of brown hair being ripped off in the process.

Charles bit down on a sound of pain, gaze averted as he slipped off the bed and scrambled for the bathroom. He paused just before going in, glancing at Erik.

"What if I go over my time?" He asked curiously. Erik leered, crossing his arms.

"I'll break the door down."

Charles' eyes went wide and he slipped in the bathroom with a mutter of, "Oh. Well. Okay then." The door clicked shut.

Erik turned the sound back on the television and resumed his episode of 'How Its Made', keeping an eye on the clock. Two minutes before Charles' time was up, he stood and rapped forcefully on the door.

"Two minutes!" He barked over the roar of the rushing shower. Charles replied with a loud 'Okay!' of acknowledgement, to which Erik went and retrieved one of his t-shirts that he rarely wore.

Much to his displeasure, Erik came to the realization that he really hadn't thought his actions through. Unless he wanted a captive that utterly reeked, he was going to have to buy a few articles of clothing for Charles - and possibly have the staff bring him a cot.

The floor wasn't a good place to let Charles sleep because Erik wouldn't be able to hear him moving around until it was too late. A cot, on the other hand, would creak and groan with every movement that Charles made. (That, or he could just continue sharing the bed with the teenager, but Erik was already trying to ignore the distracting way Charles habitually licked his lips, or how his voice sounded when he whimpered. It made Erik wonder how much more arousing it would be to make Charles whimper in a completely different manner.)

The doorknob jiggled and Erik glanced at the clock to see that Charles had less than half a minute. He stood silently, heading for the bathroom door to unlock and open it. He got a few inches before the door no longer gave way, and Charles pushed back. Erik snarled, prepared to shove painfully at the door and, most likely, force Charles against the wall with the action, but then Charles spoke.

"Ah- could I have the shirt, please? I need to wait for my underwear to dry and I'm a bit naked here." Charles babbled, one pale and thin-wristed hand shoving through the space in the doorway. Erik slapped the t-shirt into Charles' hand with more force than necessary, and grabbed that small wrist before it could withdraw. He yanked, satisfied with the startled yelp that it tore from Charles when Erik practically dragged him through the doorway. Charles managed to hold onto the doorknob enough to keep his lower half inside the bathroom - but this was enough for Erik.

He drew his face close to the teen's, having to bend forward a bit to do so, and growled. "Don't treat this like a vacation. I don't give a fuck about your modesty if it inconveniences me. Do you understand?" He hissed. Charles, eyes wide and frightened, nodded furiously and didn't even bother to try and free his wrist from Erik's painful grip.

"My apologies. I didn't- I just. s-sorry." Charles whimpered, looking unsure if he was supposed to come out from behind the bathroom door or not. Erik, pleased with Charles' cooperation, released the teen's hand and stepped back.

"Put that shirt on. You can use a towel to cover yourself, if you must." Erik said. Charles, flustered, nodded and shut the door. Erik didn't bother to lock it, instead hovering outside until it opened again a few seconds later. Catching Erik's gesture at the bed, Charles made his way over to it, sitting down gingerly and holding his wrists together for Erik to tie.

Erik was halfway to the rope when he paused. At this point it would be more of a hassle than anything, given that Charles' utter lack of mobility made for one very high-maintenance captive. Rethinking, Erik brought the rope over, but reached for the dagger first. Charles shifted, looking nervous and then relieved when Erik did nothing but sever the rope in half. Satisfied with his two pieces, Erik used them first to tie Charles' wrists together and then his ankles. It would be easier for Charles' to escape, technically, but Erik knew now that the teen wouldn't try anything when Erik was sitting in the same room with more than one weapon at his disposal, as well as a good fifty pounds of muscle more than Charles.

Once Charles' was restrained, Erik shoved his hands under the small teen's arms, startling a squeak out of Charles' as Erik bodily lifted him and set him down against the headboard. Charles, whose face was flushed brightly, watched Erik with wide eyes as the man grabbed the remote control and slapped it into Charles' tied hands.

"No news." Erik commanded, giving a painful warning squeeze to the hands clasped around the remote. Charles nodded, eyes locking for a moment longer with Erik's until he turned to fiddle with the television.

Erik sat back down at the small table as the teenager began channel flipping, reaching for the small motel phone after a second. He glanced over to see that Charles had settled on some show with pretty looking men who were apparently hunting monsters or something, and dialed the front desk.

He argued with the clerk for a minute and had to hang up before he did something particularly violent. Who the fuck charged $50 a night for the use of a cot? Was that even legal? Erik ran his hand over his face, turning to Charles (who was utterly enraptured in watching the pretty men argue with another attractive man in a creepy flasher coat) and holding back a growl of annoyance.

"Ultimatum." He started, mulling over the words in his head. Charles glanced away from the television to look at Erik in confusion. "You can sleep in the bathroom or share the bed with me."

Charles' scowled, his red lips pursing in confusion (to Erik's options, or the fact that he had options, Erik wasn't sure). "Can't I sleep on the floor next to the bed?"

"_No_."

Charles, only mildly taken aback, glanced at the television for a second - long enough for Erik's impatience to grow. He was ready to just lock Charles in the bathroom for the night when the teen spoke up again - flush rising all the way up from his neck to the backs of his ears.

"Uh, the bed, I suppose... You aren't going to molest me at all, are you?" Charles ventured, his voice quiet and nervous, unwilling to look at Erik. Taken aback, the man gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles started turning white.

"**_NO_**." He snapped, somewhat shocked that this kid - who Erik had hardly touched outside of the necessary actions - dared accuse Erik of doing something so immoral. He preferred consensual partners, if any.

"Excellent." Charles breathed with relief, his fluster turning into a tiny smile that had Erik narrowing his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. He grunted to Charles while pulling out his cellular, searching through his contacts to try and set up an appointment with someone who could get him the right papers and identification so that Erik could get through the airport customs without being detained.

Once he'd hung up with Jason Wyngarde (the only one willing and capable of providing Erik with the forgeries he needed), Erik tore out a piece of paper from one of his notebooks, glancing over at Charles.

"Boxers or briefs?" He asked, voice barely audible over the television. Charles instantly muted the sound of demons being slain to look at Erik in confusion.

"Uhhh..." Charles started, obviously trying to scramble for a response after having been taken off guard. Erik's right brow quirked, pen tapping impatiently on the strip of paper.

"Don't give me the 'cool' answer, either. They're going to be the only underwear you'll have for the next few days." He added. This seemed to help Charles grasp at the situation better, because the teen flushed and started fiddling with the remote control.

"Boxer-briefs?" Charles ventured timidly. Surprised, Erik couldn't help the smallest of grins from pulling at the corners of his mouth while he wrote it down.

"Touché..." He muttered, scribbling down to get Charles a pair of jeans and some cheap t-shirts as well. "You know..." Erik began, writing down things that he had to get for himself, "It's very fortunate for you that the ransom I'll be receiving for your return is going to help reimburse the expenses gone into making sure you're treated properly."

"Ransom, yes..." Charles murmured absently, fiddling with the remote in his hands. "About that..." His voice was soft, so barely audible that it took Erik a few seconds to register what the teenager was doing. He stiffened, hand tightening around his pen as Charles continued. "My step-father, Kurt Marko, isn't likely to-"

"Shut up." Erik growled. "Whatever you say isn't going to make me release you." He hissed, a sharp burn coiling in his gut. Charles worried his lower lip between his teeth.

"But I'm not trying to-"

Erik leapt up, already making it to the bed in two long strides and raising his hand. Charles flinched, arms flying up to protect his face. "Please, I'm just trying to make you understand! You won't get your money bec-"

Erik grabbed Charles' wrists in one hand, wrenching them out of the way and using the other to slap the teen - not even giving Charles a chance to react before his hand was covering Charles' mouth, fingers digging brutally into pale flesh. He leaned in close, ignoring the terrified look coming over Charles' face.

"Are you physically incapable of shutting the fuck up?" Erik snarled, "Is that what it is? Because I have a knife - I'll cut your fucking tongue out."

Charles' eyes grew wide, inhaling sharply through his nose and trying to shake his head, despite the fact that Erik had his face in a bruising grip. Erik waited another agonizingly long second before he released Charles' mouth and wrists with a low growl. He turned, glancing around for the duct tape when Charles spoke up again.

"I'm sorry! I really am! Please- don't use the tape! I won't bring it up again!" The teen pleaded. Erik turned slowly, giving him an incredulous look and holding the tape up with narrowed eyes.

"What do I benefit from not shutting you up?" He ventured, already pulling a strip off. Charles scrambled for something to say, panic in his eyes before he flailed his bound wrists up and down.

"Massage!" He blurted.

Erik paused, eyes squinting in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Charles hurried to elaborate, fingers wiggling and gesturing at Erik. "Your hands and shoulders hurt, don't they? I can tell. I'll massage them for you."

Erik's brows furrowed and his lips pursed into a thin line as he stepped closer with the tape. "Are you trying to seduce me?" He asked, "Shouldn't this be the other way around?" He almost wanted to smile at the way Charles' eyes grew huge and his face burst into a pink flush.

"What?" Charles breathed in surprise, suddenly shaking his head and gesticulating as wildly as possible - given his restraints. "Goodness, no! I was offering the only _reasonable_ payment I have at my dispense!" The teen cried. Erik grunted, pressing the tape back into the roll and smoothing it out.

"You're that desperate, are you?" He asked. Charles shrugged helplessly, glancing away from Erik to stare at the muted television.

"My skin doesn't really appreciate the abuse." He murmured, voice bordering on petulant. Erik barked out a laugh so sudden that it startled Charles, his large hands stretching out towards his captive. Charles stared at the backs of Erik's knuckles for a moment before realizing the implications. Within an instant, he was bringing his tied hands up to wrap thin and soft fingers along Erik's right palm, tenderly pressing into the joints and rubbing.

Erik shifted, sitting on the bed besides Charles and watching the muted television. The silence stretched on for no longer than a minute before Charles was talking again.

"What's your favorite ice cream?"

Erik glanced over at the teen, his right eyebrow rising high. Charles, however, was intensely focused on smoothing away the ache in Erik's palm, and didn't look up. Erik huffed out a sound of amusement. "Plain chocolate."

Charles seemed pleased with this, if the tiny twitch at the corner of his lips was anything to go by, and reached for Erik's other hand. "Football or baseball?"

Erik leaned against the headboard, his elbow resting on his stomach so that Charles could continue massaging his hand. "Hockey."

At this, Charles' eyes shot up for a second to look at Erik, but then refocused on the older man's hand. "That was unexpected..." He murmured, kneading the base of Erik's thumb. "Favorite animal?"

Erik breathed in a half-yawn through his nose. "Shark." He pulled his hand away from Charles to turn and face his back to the teen, legs resting on the floor beside the bed. "Neck, now."

Tentative fingers gently wrapped around the base of Erik's neck, feeling out the area before thumbs dug right in and started kneading away. Erik bit back a groan, huffing and dropping his head forward.

"Energy drink or coffee?"

"Coffee." Erik mumbled, arching his back a fraction whenever Charles pressed against a particularly tender knot somewhere behind his left ear. Charles hummed thoughtfully, fingers trailing down to start rubbing Erik's shoulders.

"Favorite season?"

Erik mulled over this one for a moment, allowing Charles to soothe away the tension in his shoulders before he'd made his decision. "Winter. In Florida."

"Florida?" Charles exclaimed softly, apparently surprised.

"Sun never stops shining." Erik reasoned, squirming at the feel of a gentle thumb digging into a bundle of muscles along his shoulder blade. He couldn't bite back the groan this time, ignoring the way Charles seemed to pause before continuing.

"Would it be too much to ask for some sort of board game or book when you're out next time? Daytime dramas aren't exactly riveting..." Charles asked, not once ceasing his massage. Erik clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stand and pull away from Charles' hands. He reached for the duct tape.

"I think it's time for the tape to go back on." He said, trying not to feel guilty at the way Charles' face fell instantly. He pushed the emotion down, sticking the duct tape over Charles' mouth and patting the teen's cheek with a mocking grin. Charles' disappointed face turned into a disgruntled glare, bright blue eyes never leaving Erik as the man headed for his duffel to put away his belongings.

Once finished, Erik shucked his pants and pushed Charles across the bed to make room, gesturing for the teen to offer his wrists. Charles did so, watching Erik grab the rope and fiddle with it until he was tied to Erik as well. It wouldn't necessarily be hard for Charles to slip free, but Erik was a light enough sleeper that he'd wake up before Charles could do anything about it.

Erik used his other hand to grab the remote and shut off the television, followed by the bedside lamp. The room fell into darkness and Erik rested his head against his pillow, eyes closing. The last thing he heard was a muffled sound from Charles that could have been 'goodnight' as Erik drifted off.

At six in the morning, Erik's phone alarm started to buzz. He was awake in a heartbeat, sitting up and untying himself from Charles without a second thought. Standing, Erik flicked on the lamp to stretch and shake the sleepiness from his body before turning to Charles' still form.

"Get up." He barked. Charles made a snuffing sound, rolling over so that his back was to Erik and dragging the covers up to his shoulder, head burrowing into his pillow. Irritation spiked through Erik and he grabbed the teen's shoulder to give him a rough shake.

"Get. Up."

Charles' eyes cracked open a sliver, glazed with sleep, and fell shut again. Scowling, Erik used his open palm to slap Charles as best he could from the angle he was at. Charles jerked, waking so quickly he nearly tumbled off the edge. Frantic eyes darted around before landing on Erik.

Erik grinned with satisfaction. "Next time, do try to wake up when I tell you."

Charles made a sound in the back of his throat, nodding as his tied hands rose to hover protectively over his reddened cheek. Erik gestured to the bathroom and Charles seemed to take the hint, slipping out of the bed and using the wall for support as he hopped his way to the small door. Erik locked him in before he moved to gather the things he needed to start his day.

Once his bag was packed with the necessities, Erik rapped on the bathroom door and then opened it to see Charles sitting sleepily on the closed toilet, leaning to the side with his cheek mashed against the counter.

Erik stared and Charles pushed himself tiredly to his feet, not even protesting when Erik huffed in frustration and lifted the teen up and over his shoulder. Depositing Charles back on the bed, Erik grabbed Charles' wrists, allowing himself to be amused with how pliant Charles was with letting the man tie his arms behind his back.

"I'm going out, you can go back to sleep. Don't bother making noise, nobody cares around here." As he spoke, Erik soon realized that Charles had already drifted off with a sleepy nod. Erik's chest tightened painfully with how endearing the entire situation had become, and he straightened immediately. Scowling, Erik grabbed his keys and stomped out of the motel room with his duffel slung over a shoulder.

After opening a storage locker in the next town over, Erik headed to the small cafe that he'd set up a meeting with Jason. It took a little over an hour to go over what he needed from the man, providing him with the necessary information as well as begrudgingly allowing Jason to take his photograph. It was half past nine when they finished with a firm handshake and a wad of cash being exchanged.

Erik didn't waste any time heading to the nearest thrift store, grabbing a pair of jeans and two cheap t-shirts for Charles. At first, he thought nothing of the small wooden chess set sitting innocently on a shelf near the checkout, but it kept staying in Erik's peripheral until he reached out to grab it (as well as the bag of pieces accompanying it).

After paying for his purchases, Erik swung by a department store on his way back to the motel to grab a pack of underwear. The small cafe down the street provided Erik with a plain black coffee, as well as breakfast for himself and Charles. His duffel now heavy with his purchases, Erik took advantage of the payphone on the corner from the cafe to try dialing Westchester in hopes of getting into contact with Charles' step-father.

After three attempts that rang until the answering machine picked up, Erik slammed the receiver down and resolved to try again later in the day.

He stepped into the motel room just before noon to see Charles lounging in the bed and watching some children's show with brightly colored puppet animals that reminded Erik of the one time he'd tripped on acid in his youth. Upon seeing Erik, Charles struggled to sit up without falling over. He failed, and Erik subsequently failed to hide his amused grin.

"Breakfast." Erik said, walking towards the small table to set down the paper bag containing the food he'd gotten from the cafe. He pulled out a bagel and a packet of cream cheese with a plastic knife, as well as a bottle of water still dripping with condensation. Turning, Erik watched Charles struggle to make his way to the edge of the bed before taking pity on the teen. He lifted Charles up with a swift tug, depositing him on the chair before adjusting the restraints so that Charles' hands were tied in front of his body. With a quick wrench, the tape was gone (not without a hiss of pain from Charles, however) and Erik gestured to the food.

The cream cheese packet crinkled as Charles peeled the lid off, and Erik opened his duffel to pull out the shopping bags he'd stuffed inside of it. Charles watched him with curiosity between spreading the cheese along his bagel, taking a huge bite as Erik started removing the clothes and setting them on the motel bed.

Erik turned to the television, quickly flipping through the channels until he found the weather. He stood in the middle of the room to watch it for a few seconds, but flicked the TV off when the news came on. There was a shuffling behind him and Erik glanced over his shoulder to see Charles trying to reach the trash can without having to get up. A few seconds of struggling passed before Charles released an undignified shriek and toppled out of his chair (given that his hands and feet were tied, it wasn't entirely too surprising).

Erik laughed - much harder than he'd anticipated - and had to calm himself in order to hear Charles muttering in irritation.

"You know, this would be a lot easier if you'd untie me..."

Erik scoffed, stepping over to the teen and hauling him back onto the bed.

"I won't untie you, but I wouldn't object to a game of chess." He said, reaching into one of the bags from the thrift store to show Charles the old and worn set he'd picked up.

It terrified Erik when Charles' delighted grin sent a swell of elation through him like a punch to the gut.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 2.<p>

I'm not fond of this chapter at all. ;-;


	3. Chapter 3

Erik set up the chess set on the bed between them, black for himself and white for Charles. He barely got three moves in before realizing that Charles wasn't going to be an easy win when it came to chess, even more surprised to find the two of them playing for far longer than Erik had anticipated. The television has already played through another rerun of the monster-hunting show with the pretty men that Charles seemed so fond of whenever Charles started to speak again.

"Have you ever been to another country?"

Erik glanced up, sliding his knight across the board. "I lived in Germany until my father died when I was ten. My mother moved us out here to live with a relative." He said softly as Charles contemplated his next move. Charles hummed in interest, wrists rubbing together to get the rope to scratch against an itchy part of his skin.

"So you can speak German? I thought you had a bit of an accent, but I couldn't place it." He mused, brows rising up to his hairline. Erik noted to himself that he was going to have to buy Charles a brush before his hair turned into a practical bird's nest. He smirked, showing a flash of teeth as Charles finally moved his bishop.

"I speak four, including English." He stared down at the chessboard, going over the various moves that he could execute. Charles made a sound of delight, scooching on the bed so he could sit up – an action which jostled the chess set just the tiniest bit.

"Really now? German and English, I know. What else do you know? French?" He looked utterly fascinated – which made Erik swell with the faintest hint of pride. The feeling startled him, he couldn't recall the last time someone had taken an interest in anything about him.

"Yes, actually. I also know a fair amount of Spanish." He responded, picking up a pawn and rolling it around in his fingers before he moved it to a new position. Charles positively beamed, looking more at Erik than at the chess set.

"Where did you learn it, if you don't mind my asking?" Charles asked, glancing over at the television and scowling when he realized that the show had changed to something about superheroes.

"I taught myself." Erik mumbled, feeling suddenly flustered at the sheer attention he was receiving from his captive. Charles snapped his head back to look at Erik with eyes widened from shock. Erik gestured to the chess board that Charles had seemingly forgotten, urging the boy to make his next move.

"You taught yourself? That's so groovy!" Charles chirped, moving his other bishop across the board. Erik felt his neck grow hot, eyes falling down to the board.

"Groovy? You realize that it's no longer the 70's, right?" He said dryly, trying his hardest to stamp down on the pleased grin threatening to crawl across his lips. Charles laughed softly and, unashamed, watched Erik stare contemplatively at the chess set. Unashamedly .

"My friend, words never go out of style." Charles teased. Erik's head snapped up, pursing his lips thinly as guilt and anger shot through him.

"My name's Erik." He blurted, shocked at himself. He ignored the surprised look from Charles, shoving his rook across the board. He scowled, adding, "I'm not your friend."

Charles' surprised look fell into one of bitter disappointment. He stared at the chessboard, shifting a pawn down in a rookie move that had it captured by Erik in a heartbeat.

"Apologies, Erik." He murmured, watching Erik set the pawn in the growing pile of pieces next to the board. Erik grunted, gesturing for Charles to take his turn. Silence reigned for two more moves until Charles seemingly regained his courage.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" He asked softly. Erik shook his head, refusing to add any more details to fuel Charles' conversation arsenal. It didn't seem to deter the teenager, because he was already babbling once more.

"That's very sad. I have a step-sister named Raven – I'm not sure what I'd do without her. She's my best friend, you know." As Charles spoke, Erik's gut turned to ice. He didn't want to think about this kid's sister – remember her teary voice begging Erik not to hurt her big brother. Cursing, Erik pushed himself from the bed, ignoring Charles' confused call of his name.

"We're done playing." He snapped, reaching for the plastic bag on the end of the bed and scooping chess pieces into it.

"But we're almost finished! I'm sure only a few more moves and you'd have beaten me –" Charles' protest was cut off with a sudden whimper when Erik dropped the pawns in his grasp and gave an aborted motion to backslap him.

"Don't argue with me!" Erik barked, returning to his task of clearing up the chess set. Charles dropped his hands from where they'd been protecting his face.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to-"

"You're still arguing! I said shut. Up." This time it was more of a hiss. Erik snapped the chessboard together before throwing both items onto the table. Charles wrung his hands together, clearly upset, and bit down on his lip.

"S-sorry…" Just hearing Charles' voice incensed Erik, and he whirled around with the back of his hand already flying to strike the teenager across the face. Charles yelped, falling against the bed and holding his cheek in his hand as Erik loomed over him.

"STOP. TALKING." This time, Charles nodded silently, eyes starting to water from the pain. Erik stared down at him, anger bleeding away with each short breath that escaped Charles. Just the sight of him made Erik's stomach twist with half-formed guilt. Charles' hair was disheveled, trembling hands cupping over the burning red mark that covered half of his face, eyes rimmed red and lower lip wobbling every time he took a breath.

"Fuck." Erik spat, whirling on his heel and grabbing the discarded roll of duct tape. Charles didn't even protest when a strip was torn off and shoved on his face. Erik meant to pull away, but his fingers lingered over the red welt caused by his own hand. He ghosted his fingers over the outline of it before pulling away with another curse. He barely paused to grab his wallet and keys before stomping out of motel room and slamming the door shut.

-

Erik wasn't gone for too terribly long, mostly ashamed at himself for having lost his temper so easily. He spent a good portion of his time at the local library, rifling through newspaper articles and wasting an hour on dead ends. Erik wasn't even aware of how hungry he was getting until his stomach started panging in hunger, signifying that it was time for lunch. Delegating it as his final task for the day, Erik made sure to stop at the same deli he had the day prior before making his way across the street to a payphone.

This time, when the voice of a young girl answered, Erik tried a different approach.

"Give the phone to an adult." He growled. The girl gasped, whining and babbling incoherently.

"Please, sir! Kurt won't listen to me – I've tried and he thinks Charles ran away!" She cried. Erik kicked at the edge of the phone booth, scraping his sneaker along the concrete in a fidget.

"Give the phone to him, then." He wasn't going to show emotion – he wasn't going to show pity for her.

"I- he's… he won't listen to me. I can… I can give you his cell phone?"

"Fine." Erik spat, digging into his jeans pocket for the pen he'd left in there earlier. There was a rustle as the girl tried to find the information before she rattled off the numbers. Erik scribbled it down, hanging up on her without a word and shoving more change into the phone to dial the cell.

At first, Erik thought it was going to go to voice mail, but on the last ring a man's irritated voice answered and Erik started to talk on autopilot.

"Do you want him back? Alive?" He growled. There was a pause and then a loud laugh.

"Who? Charles?" The man on the other line chuckled, "I could care less if you killed that little fucker. Actually – you'd be doing me a favor! His trust fund is locked from me unless he dies."

Erik slammed the phone into the receiver, struggling to remember to breathe. He choked, vision clouding red despite his attempts to try and calm himself. He didn't understand how anyone could say such things about a child, let alone their own son. He swallowed, quelling the nausea of disgust in his gut and clenching his eyes shut. He cursed, slamming the heel of his palm against the side of the payphone boot, focusing on the pain to try and take away from the frustration inside of him before shoving away to mount his motorcycle.

Any momentary calm that Erik had experienced during his ride back to the motel disappeared when he opened the door to find the room empty. Snarling, Erik nearly upended the bed when he wrenched the mattress up to check beneath it. The toilet flushed and Erik stood, following the sound of running water to the bathroom. He shoved at the knob, failing to twist it properly the first time, and giving it a forceful shove to send it flying open when he managed to open it on his second attempt. Charles froze with his untied hands still in the faucet, eyes wide and looking like a deer in the headlights.

"Get. Out." Erik growled, voice so low that it was enough to startle Charles into skirting by him to make his way into the main room.

"Please don't be angry, Erik!" Charles blurted, wringing his wet hands together nervously, "I wasn't going to leave – but you left the knife out and I really had to use the restroom. I didn't think I'd be able to get away so I stayed and – "

"Shut the fuck up!" Erik roared, throwing the bag from the deli with all his might at the dresser. It hit the it with a thud and fell down beside the television. Charles' mouth snapped shut and Erik advanced, backing him up towards the bed.

"You knew!" He began, shoving at Charles and knocking him down onto the bed. "You fucking knew that money was in a trust fund, didn't you?"

Charles gasped, scrambling back on the bed to try and distance himself from Erik's rage. "E-Erik, you must understand, I tried to tell you!" He protested with terrified eyes. Erik snarled, reaching forward and grabbing Charles by the ankle to drag him closer.

"Don't lie to me! You had plenty of time to say something – or were you just biding your time for a good laugh?" He loomed over the boy, eyes narrowing. Charles shook his head, flinching away from Erik's stare. Erik sneered, reaching out to grab a handful of matted brown hair and forcing those frightened blue eyes to lock with his. Charles' eyes darted from Erik's eyes to his sneer and then back up again, shaking his head in the man's grasp.  
>"Is that what it was? Lead on the stupid felon for a few laughs before he finds out he's not going to get his money. Let him feel guilty for it the entire time, and then fuck his entire day up?" He sneered, fingers tightening with each word until Charles was stuttering out a pained whine and bringing his hands up to try and disentangle Erik's fingers from his hair.<br>Erik shook him, snarling, and Charles dropped his hands.  
>"You think this is funny?" He hissed, "Look at me."<br>Charles' eyes darted up, bloodshot and glassy with his shoulders trembling. "You think fucking with me is a good idea? Making me think you were some helpless little kid with a rich daddy?"  
>Charles squirmed, wincing and shaking his head. "N-no. Erik, please, listen to me!" He pleaded, "You're being irrational!"<br>Erik stood back, dragging Charles off of the bed by his hair and throwing him up against the wall. Charles cried out, partially in fright and partially in relief when Erik's hand finally left his hair. "Erik, stop!"  
>Snarling, Erik grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, hand wrapping around that thin, thin neck and slamming his entire body into the wall.<p>

"I'm sick of you thinking you can manipulate me just because I'm kind to you!" He snapped, bringing Charles close and slamming him back for good measure. Charles released a pained yelp, eyes crossing in disorientation for a moment when his head bounced off of the wall. He struggled, legs kicking uselessly in the air and tugging at Erik's arm.

"M'not!" He choked, hands shooting out to push at Erik's face. His fingers hooked in the corners of Erik's mouth, wrenching and pulling. Erik's head snapped back, swinging Charles around and throwing him towards the bed. Charles stumbled with a shout of surprise and a gasp of air, grabbing the sheets to try and stop his fall and landing in a heap of bedding on the ground.

"Erik! Please, calm down!" Charles cried, struggling to get to his hands and knees. Erik's leg shot out, catching Charles in the side and wrenching a sob of agony from the teenager. "Stop!" Charles whimpered through his tears, curling into a ball to protect his stomach. Rage boiled inside of him, bubbling and hissing inside his chest and gut, threatening to spill out and burn everything in his vicinity. Blinded by it, Erik grabbed Charles' elbow, hauling him to his feet only to strike him across the face with the back of his hand, knocking him back down.

"Do you think you can control me?" Erik snarled, the toe of his shoe striking Charles in the lower back in a violent kick. Charles screamed, turning and burying his face into the dirty carpet of the motel room and clawing at it to try and pull himself away. Erik grabbed him by the leg, dragging him closer until he could grab the boy by the elastic of his boxers.  
>"Get up!" He dragged Charles to his feet, tensing whenever shaking hands scrambled and grabbed his arms for purchase. Charles coughed out a sob of terror, hiccuping over his breath and shaking his head wildly.<br>"Erik, please, you have to listen to me!" He cried. Erik sneered, giving Charles a brutal shove back to try and extricate himself from Charles' hold. Charles stumbled, yelping in shock and tripping over himself. He fell, back slamming into the dresser with such a force that it shook the entire thing, the television giving a menacing groan as it started to tip. Charles barely had time to glance up before it was wobbling and falling forward.  
>It was like time had slowed down temporarily, Charles' eyes going wide in a split second of panic as he tried to sramble out of the way. Despite Charles' efforts, the television landed on his arm and side with a painful crunch. The broken wail that wrenched from Charles' throat was like a kick back to the present - enough to break the stream of passionate fury that had been eating away at Erik.<p>

Erik stumbled back, hitting the bed and sitting heavily with eyes wide from disbelief at himself and voice robbed of speech. Charles pushed the television off of himself with a sob, breath hitching with every choke of noise that left him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, s-sorry." Charles babbled, sniffling and coughing out another moan of pain. He was curled up on his side, clutching his arm to his chest with blood pouring from his nose and the split in his lip. Erik sucked in a breath, air leaving him forcefully. He sat there, staring at Charles as he writhed and sobbed, in obvious agony.

"Charles – " Erik started weakly, breaking off when he realized he had nothing to say. Charles blearily cracked an eye open through his tears, sniffling a whimper and forcefully looking anywhere but at Erik.

Erik stood, walking towards Charles and freezing whenever Charles eked out a terrified cry and curled up into an even tighter ball. "Charles…" He tried again, voice cracking with the overpowering guilt that had started to suffocate him.

"Charles- I -," Erik broke off, exhaling and turning to head for his duffel bag. Charles keened quietly, though it broke off into a sob not a few seconds later while Erik dug around for the bottle of Vicodin that he knew he still had. He found it in a side pocket, and snatched a water bottle as well before heading over to Charles.

Charles curled his good arm over his head, body shaking so violently that Erik was sure his teeth would be clacking if he weren't sobbing and moaning so much. "Charles, take this." He urged softly, gingerly bringing a hand to tap Charles' wrist and wincing at the flinch that resulted. "Charles, do as I say." This time, Erik added more force into his voice. Charles sniffed loudly, coughing and pulling his arm down to wearily stare up at Erik – face blotchy and mouth smeared with blood. (Had Erik really hit him so hard that it had caused a nosebleed?)

Erik shook a pill out of the bottle, holding it to Charles' lips for him to take. Charles blinked, forcing tears to slip sideways down his face as he shook his head, mouth clicking shut to purse his lips. Erik growled low in his throat – forcing himself to remain calm – and set the bottle down to pry Charles' mouth open.

"They're painkillers." He snapped, fingers hooking over Charles' lower teeth and pushing the Vicodin past them. "So either I make you swallow it dry, you drink this fucking water." Erik snatched the bottle of water for emphasis and Charles stiffened for a moment, wheezing in pain and then letting his jaw go slack. His good arm lifted to shakily take the water, sipping at it and swallowing the pill.

Erik grunted in satisfaction, standing to return the pill bottle to his bag and then going into the bathroom. He wet a cloth, returning and kneeling by Charles to start wiping the blood from his face. Charles shook nervously, but he didn't fight back until Erik tried to lift him.

"No!" He shrieked, writhing and wiggling when Erik went to slip an arm behind his shoulders and knees. Erik grunted when he received a heel to his thigh, hand rising to strike Charles and freezing mid-motion. Charles did the same, eyes going wide in terror.

Erik lowered his arm slowly until his hand rested on Charles' head, petting through unruly and tangled hair. "I'm sorry." He rasped, "I don't want to hurt you- I don't- but you keep… making me mad."

"Why are you so angry?" Charles rasped weakly, his shoulders bunched protectively up to his jawline, breathing uneven and wet with tears. His gaze never once left Erik's body, nervously ticking from the man's face, to his arms and posture before looking back up. Erik took great care to lift him – cradling Charles' body to his chest before lowering him on the bed.

"It's all I've ever known." Erik confessed quietly, arranging the pillows so that Charles was propped on them. Charles scowled in confusion, tongue darting out to lap up some of the blood that had smeared across his upper lip from his bleeding nose. Erik contemplated getting ice, but he didn't think it wise to leave the room just yet.

Erik climbed up onto the bed beside Charles, leaning against the headboard with a frustrated huff. Grunting in pain, Charles drooped to the side before freezing and then forcing himself to shakily scoot to the opposite end of the bed from Erik.  
>Guiltily, Erik hesitated to reach out and help Charles arrange himself, but let his palms drop uselessly after a nervous flinch that resulted. Erik stared down at him, but Charles was too busy hugging his arm to his chest to keep from jarring it.<br>"Let me see your arm." Erik requested softly. Charles pursed his lips, staring resolutely at the wall to his side.  
>"No."<br>"Charles." Erik growled.  
>Charles' body slackened, allowing Erik to reach out and gingerly pull the arm towards himself. His hands ghosted along the bones, prodding and kneading every so often while gauging the pain through Charles' hisses and whimpers.<br>"I have to find the man that killed my mother." Erik blurted, one hand rising to card through his hair.  
>At first, there was silence. The air conditioner kicked on with a groan and a whirr, overpowering Charles' labored breathing as the boy sniffed and wiped the drying blood under his nose onto his shoulder. He cleared his throat, swallowing heavily and staring at the wall with a blank expression. Erik released his arm - satisfied to note that nothing had been broken - and Charles brought the injured appendage back to his stomach, cradling it.<br>"Tell me more, please." Charles requested suddenly, his voice soft. "I want to understand."

Erik had to draw in a deep breath to remind his lungs to keep operating against the swell of tension in his muscles. He shifted, hands moving from his sides, to his laps, crossing and then landing on his lap again with intertwined fingers. It took a moment to look up, and when he did, it was to see Charles staring at him with trembling shoulders and barely-hidden nervousness.

"I won't tell you his name..." It came out in a sudden gust of words, fingers curling together. Charles released a soft sound from the back of his throat, head tilting faintly to encourage Erik to continue - despite the lack of true information - as if willing to hear anything that came from Erik's lips…

"Don't look at me like that." Erik snapped, hands turning to unconsciously dig his nails into his jeans for a split second before loosening and smoothing out the material. Charles squirmed uncomfortably, mouth shutting with a click of his teeth.

"Apologies." Charles said softly, shifting to try and better face Erik and wincing when it jarred his body too much. He bobbed his head in a nod, giving Erik an expectant look nonetheless. "Please continue."

Erik contemplated the pros and cons of elaborating, resisting the urge to blurt out his entire life story. There was something about this child that made Erik want to right every wrong he'd ever committed, all while spilling his emotions like a simpering prepubescent girl.

"I'm going to find him and kill him."

Charles sucked in a breath through his nose, shifting and whimpering in pain so that he could look up at Erik imploringly. "Kill him?" He cried softly, "Can't you leave it to the justice system?"

Erik barked out a laugh, forcing himself not to turn and strangle the life out of Charles' pretty little head.

"He's a drug lord, the justice system doesn't work on those types of men." Erik replied bitterly, lips pursing as his anger started to swell up once more. Charles seemed to think this over in his head for a moment, eyes dulled with pain and the first inklings of the painkillers kicking in.

"You could always catch him in the act? Get it on video?" Charles offered. It was adorable, really, how this kid seemed to think that the real world operated like some kind of television show or badly written novel. It made Erik laugh bitterly, hand lifting up and then freezing in hesitation, testing Charles' reaction. A miniscule flinch was Charles' first reaction, but he quickly recovered from it to watch Erik's outstretched hand contemplatively. Erik waited, watching Charles slide his gaze from Erik's hand to his face, head tilting up as he looked away - a silent permission. Erik's chest ached, suddenly feeling too full, too warm, and continued his hand's journey until it rested just below Charles' ear. Charles barely jumped, exhaling slowly as Erik moved to cup the back of Charles' neck, fingers tangling in messy brown hair and scratching gently.

"If things were that easy, I'm sure he would have been taken down a very long time ago," he explained, "This way, he won't hurt anyone else – he'll pay for what he did to my family and all of the other people who have suffered at his hands."

Charles remained silent, shifting every now and then with a pained wheeze, "Tell me more." He urged again. Erik sucked in a breath and released it with a sigh. At this point, there wasn't much purpose to keep secrets - Charles already knew enough and Erik was already a wanted man.

"I was accepted into a private school…. My mother borrowed money from him to pay for my supplies and tuition. She was going to pay it back – she took extra shifts at the hospital and I hardly ever saw her except when she would make me dinner before starting the graveyard shifts at work." Erik paused, eyes distant as he recalled those precious few moments of sitting at the dinner table with his mother's gentle hand stroking his cheek and mouth pressing a loving kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, swallowing.

"There was interest… she couldn't pay her loans back in time. Men came to our house, they destroyed everything, took anything we had of value. I was – I was at school. My mother – " Erik choked, digging his fingers into Charles' hair to try and drag himself from the swirling abyss of emotions that started to well up inside of him.

"I found her body when I got home."

Charles tensed, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose and turning to face Erik with wide eyes. "Erik," he began quietly, "How old were you?"

"Eleven." Erik answered. "They took me to him. I worked for that man for years to pay off the debt of my school. He wouldn't let me transfer to a public school, you see, so the debt kept building up…"

"Erik…"

"I was nineteen when I got out. I went to the police – I had spent all those years making my own file on that man – and tried to have him arrested. They did nothing. The papers didn't even exist when I returned the next day." Erik chuckled, and then laughed, his shoulders shaking as he dropped his hand back down to the comforter. Charles twisted so he could look up at Erik more easily, shifting away from the edge of the bed with lips pursed into a thin, red line.

"It isn't fair, what that man did to you." He said seriously. His pupils were dilated, gaze wandering from Erik's face every few seconds and letting Erik know that the Vicodin was starting to work. Erik pressed his hand back into Charles' hair, coaxing the boy to slide down and rest against the pillow. He slipped off of the bed, giving Charles a pat on the head.

"I know." He said quietly.

Charles went silent for a long moment, watching Erik cross the room and lift the television back onto the dresser.

"I think I broke it." Charles pointed out airily, "possibly."

Erik scowled, something worming its way into his head and chest that felt like guilt - did Charles actually blame himself for the television falling? He brushed the feeling away with a heavy exhale, checking the screen for cracks, plugging it in and hitting the power switch. Charles let out a noise of delight when the screen flickered to life and fuzzed into focus. Erik checked the back, replacing the cables and then returning to the bed. He climbed up next to Charles, hesitantly lying beside the boy so that their shoulders were brushing. He grabbed the remote from the bedstand, startled when Charles shifted pliantly into his side, using Erik's body for support.

Flipping through the channels only lasted a few moments before Charles was squirming to ask him something. Erik shifted, bringing an arm up and around Charles' back and gripping the boy's shoulder firmly to try and still him. Charles looked up, blinking owlishly.

"Can we watch Supernatural?"

"Huh?"

Charles moved his bad arm, winced, and then dropped it to wriggle his uninjured one out from between their bodies to grope for the remote control. Erik handed it over, amused, as Charles took a moment to stare at the device. He seemed to remember how to work it soon enough, and started mashing through the channels.

"No. not that. No. what is that? No- YES. No wait. That's not- I don't even know what that is… Oh. It's not on right now." Charles went quiet, and then released a high-pitched laugh that was more of a giggle than anything. Erik watched Charles press the remote against his smile before straightening and looking serious. "I should find something else."

He started flipping through the channels again. Erik bit down on the inside of his cheek. He remembered feeling rather delirious the first time he'd ever taken any strong painkillers, but he didn't recall being as … giddy… as Charles.

Charles, satisfied with some children's cartoon with a talking dog and a kid in a bunny hat, sighed, chuckled, and curled up into Erik's side.

"… since when did I say you could use me as a pillow?" Erik grumbled, hand resting on Charles' bicep as the teen rubbed his cheek against Erik's chest.

"You smell good." Charles answered vaguely, his words slurring the tiniest bit, and bringing his knees up into a curl. "s'a...pleasant surprise, considering how much of a brute you are."

Erik stiffened and Charles laughed at himself. "I expected you to smell like – I don't know, perhaps a Spartan or something else musky and gruff." Charles turned his face into Erik's pectoral, inhaling with a hum.

"You smell... like soap. Cheap soap. But good soap."

Erik brought his hand up, pressing his palm over his face and trying to smother the grin that so desperately wanted to break out. "You realize you're getting friendly with the man who kidnapped you." He pointed out dryly. Charles slid his head back to look up at Erik, smirking cheekily into his shirt.

"Very astute of you, Erik," Charles shot back with just as much dry wit as he'd been given. Erik's eyebrows shot into his hairline and Charles gave him a ridiculously giddy smile. "However, you've failed to take note that you've only kidnapped me to further a very admirable goal. Avenging your mother, I mean. Not murdering a drug lord. Murdering drug lords are only admirable goals in video games in which there are no repercussions."

Erik couldn't stifle his laugh this time, entirely too amused that this boy was speaking as if he was currently in a debate club, not drugged and tired and hurt, and wasn't surprised when it made Charles start to laugh as well. Charles, however, started laughing even more when he realized he was doing so, and Erik found himself running his hand across the teen's shaking back to try and calm him down as soon as wheezes of pain were interspersed between giggles.

Charles, still chuckling weakly after a moment, groaned pathetically. "I don't like this. What did you give me?"

"Vicodin." Erik answered. Charles seemed to accept this with a sigh, turning to watch the television once more.

There was blessed silence for no more than five minutes when Charles shifted with a noise of pain. Erik glanced down at the back of his head and Charles wriggled again to try and get comfortable.

"I'm not going to tell the authorities about you. Just so you know."

Erik scoffed despite himself, "Maybe, if I'd thought to blindfold you."

Charles turned, struggling to sit up through his drugged pain and shaking his head. "No, Erik. I'm serious – I won't."

At Erik's dissatisfied look, Charles released a sigh. "I may be young, but I'm not a child. I know why you're doing what you're doing and… yeah. Killing him won't bring you peace, but I still understand."

"I'm sorry I hurt you." Erik blurted, causing Charles' eyes to widen in surprise. He shrugged, "I'm a bad man, but that doesn't mean I have an excuse…"

"I won't forgive you." Charles said softly. Erik snapped his head from the television to look at Charles. Charles smiled – a tiny curl of his lips – and shrugged. "Though… I understand that all you've ever known is anger."

Erik scowled, and then tipped his head to let Charles know that he was right. Charles laughed, dropping his head onto Erik's arm and going silent for another long moment.

"You need my money to finish this, don't you?"

Erik didn't answer, and Charles took that as answer enough to continue. "My step-father… doesn't control all of our funds. My mother returns in a few days from her cruise – if I could talk to her and make her think that my life is in danger, we could get the money we need…"

"We?"

Charles went silent, scowling as he tried to think over his words. "Well. I mean. I don't know."

Erik sighed, pressing a hand to the back of Charles' head. "Go to sleep, Charles. We'll talk about this tomorrow. How are you feeling?"

Charles squirmed, "Better..." Those words sent a shock of relief through Erik so strong that he had to give Charles' head a tender squeeze before petting the unruly brown locks.

"That's good." For now, at least.

* * *

><p>FFFFFF SORRY. I FAIL. I KNOW.<p>

I think I would have never posted this chapter if it weren't for this amazing beta who I'm afraid to name because she thinks so little of herself as not not realize how much she's truly helped me.


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